


Rogue(ish)

by helloshepard



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Post-Mass Effect 2, Pre-Mass Effect 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8450767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: Nanowrimo. AU. “If you decide to stay, I can't promise you'll come out alive—or that you'll finish this war living in freedom. Cerberus is quickly getting to the top of the Council's most wanted, and no matter what we say or do, we are still flying Cerberus's colors.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Open to constructive crit.

“The decision is final.”

A hand went up, silencing the Admiral's protest before he could begin.

“I've cut my ties to Cerberus, Admiral, but I'm not going back to Earth.”

Hackett sighed, a long, slow sound that translated to static over the comm.

“You know this will make you an enemy in the eyes of the Alliance—and a potential enemy in the eyes of the Council.”

“Yes.” Unable to bite back her retort, Shepard continued. “The Collectors have been defeated, but we've got a bigger problem on our hands.”

“The Reapers.”

Shepard nodded.

“Shepard...” Hackett crossed his arms, for a moment resembling a old cartoon caricature. “Our scouts have been throughout the entire Traverse. No proof of your 'Reapers' has been uncovered.”

“Yet.” Shepard said. “Not yet.”

Hackett frowned.

“Let me know if you find anything. Hackett out.”

Shepard cut the transmission and lowered the lights. Save for the dim lights in the fish tanks, the room was dark. The commander checked her chrono. Less than an hour before the meeting with her remaining crewmates.

Carefully, Shepard portioned out fish food and dumped it into the tank. Shining in gold and silver and blue, the fish leapt to get the food, ignoring her entirely.

Shepard sighed, then left the fish to their meal and walked out.

* * *

 

In the engine room, creator and creation stood over a console, murmuring quietly.

Shepard hesitated in the doorway, unwilling to disturb a rare moment of peace between the two. But Legion, already aware of her presence, turned to face her.

“Shepard-Commander.”

Tali jumped.

“Shepard! We were just...ah...”

Shepard held her hands up in a show of deference.

“It's fine. Just wanted an update on the engines.”

“Right.” Tali cleared her throat and brought up her omni-tool. “We're up to 75% of our original capacity. If we can get the parts from the Citadel we'll be back to maximum efficiency.”

Shepard pursed her lips.

“We might have a problem with that.”

“What's that?”

“The Citadel might be off limits for the time being.” Shepard said simply. “We've got a meeting in half an hour. I'll explain then.”

Tali looked like she was biting back a demand for an answer, but simply nodded.

“All right. We'll keep working on it.”

* * *

 

The path to the gun battery was one well traveled, but Shepard couldn't help but feel soft dread creeping up on her as she opened the door.

Garrus acknowledged her presence with a nod: no one else would dare enter without knocking.

“Garrus.”

“Shepard.”

Her stomach dropped as she heard the ice in his tone.

“Look.” Shepard crossed her arms, then uncrossed them in favor of resting her hands against the railing. “I don't know what you want me to say.”

“I didn't sign on to get stuck with babysitting duty, Shepard.” Finally, _finally,_ Garrus turned to look at her, anger obvious in his eyes. “I thought you were better than that.”

Shepard bit her lip.

“After the meeting.” she said. “I promise. We'll talk all you want.”

“Fine.”

The journey to the elevator was longer than she expected, given that Grunt had recently commandeered the space in favor of celebrating their defeat of the Collectors: the elevator itself was littered with empty ryncol bottles and bits of scrap metal. Shepard kicked a bottle out of the elevator's entrance and wondered who was in charge of janitorial duties now, since Baylor and Watson had both met their ends on the Collector homeworld.

* * *

 

“As of 1145 hours Citadel time today, _Normandy_ is a rogue vessel.” Shepard said.

She had been expecting some sort of reaction. Shouts of anger. Cheers. Something.

Instead, there was silence. A few hushed murmurs.

“We'll be stopping at Omega within the next 24 hours. _Normandy_ will be switching to a skeleton crew from this point on: essential personnel only. And that leaves you with a choice.”

“You are giving us the option to leave.” Thane said.

Shepard nodded.

Always quiet, Thane was electing to spend even more time within the life support chambers. Mentally, Shepard marked him down in the _leave_ column—not because his heart was not in the mission, she believed, but because his body could not keep up.

She would have to talk to him later.

“If you decide to stay, I can't promise you'll come out alive—or that you'll finish this war living in freedom. Cerberus is quickly getting to the top of the Council's most wanted, and no matter what we say or do, we are still flying Cerberus's colors.”

“What would we be doing?” Jacob asked. “I mean, I'm sure you had a plan before you decided to call up the brass and tell them where to shove it.”

“I'm glad you asked.” Shepard said.

With one hand, she pulled up the standard three-dimensional map of the Milky Way.

“EDI has been running algorithms since the Collectors boarded this ship, trying to predict the actions the Reapers will take when they arrive,” Shepard said, zooming out of the Traverse and into Alliance space. Systems pinged, lighting up the map.

Earth. Palaven. Sur'kesh. Thessia. The Citadel.

“Current simulations predict they will do one of two things.”

“Wipe out everything in their path,” Garrus said. “Or use some kind of strategy to attack certain systems.”

His words cut through the tension like a knife. Shepard let her shoulders drop a half inch.

“Yes.” Shepard gestured again, and the map zoomed out, until the lights were mere pinpricks of yellow against the masses other of stars and planets that all made up the galaxy. “But if we accept that strategy and prepared accordingly, billions will die.”

“If we try to prepare the planets on the fringes on the galaxy while paying equal attention to the ones in the middle and inner core, _everyone_ will die,” Miranda said. “When will the simulations be complete?”

“Within twelve hours.” Shepard replied. “EDI will send the results to your omni-tools.”

Shepard stood.

The ones with military background stood immediately. Those without took a second to follow suit, but within a minute, everyone was standing at attention, watching Shepard intently.

“Dismissed.”

 


End file.
